The Waiting
by Jojo6
Summary: Sam/Other. Sam/Jack. The waiting just isn't fun. Season 7/Future.


Title: The Waiting  
Author: Jojo  
E-mail: randomleaves@yahoo.co.uk  
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Pairings: Sam/other, Sam/Jack  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: The waiting just ain't fun.  
A/N: Thanks to Em and Melly.  


*

*

*

The waiting is boring. It's not romantic, it's not sexy, it's not angst-ridden or a page turner in some racy novel where the characters don't get it together until the end. 

It's fucking boring, that's what it is.

Sitting alone in your picture-perfect house, watching one of the many unused videos on your nearly-new TV, you imagine all the sex you could be having if the both of you didn't have scruples, morals, respect, and all that crap.

Because, well, you really miss the sex. 

So when Janet calls, tells you about this guy she's seeing – another doctor, big surprise – and this guy's best friend who's just moved to the Springs and doesn't know anybody, you think, what the hell? It couldn't hurt. It's not like it'll get serious because it's not possible to be in love with two guys at the same time.

Much to Janet's surprise, you say yes, sure, whatever, great, looking forward to it. The silence on the other end of the phone is very telling, and then she perks up, sounding surprised but pleased. She gives you the date, the time, tells you what to wear in that way of hers that makes her sound like your mother.

Then you hang up. 

For a few minutes, you fidget on the sofa, watching the flickering of the TV screen, and wonder if you ought to call him. Give him a heads up. Neither of you date, after all. Not that you've ever spoken of it; it's just one of those things you just don't do.

It's only polite, after all, and your hand hovers over the ill-used phone. He's speed dial number two because you thought it was too telling to have him as number one.

But you don't call him, and it doesn't come as much of a surprise to you. Instead, you hide the phone under a cushion and settle back to watch the TV, wondering whether you should paint your nails for this momentous occasion.

*

"So... a date."

"Blind date."

Chewing thoughtfully, Colonel O'Neill watched her face with the familiarity of a man who had done it before, many times. "Didn't figure you were the type."

"Janet caught me at a weak moment." Under the table, ever so lightly, her boot brushed his. "It's not a big deal."

"No?"

"No," she repeated.

On either side of them, Teal'c and Daniel glanced at each other before quietly going back to their meals.

*

You know it's not a big deal – in fact, you *feel* that it's not a big deal – and to spite that feeling, you go to enormous lengths to make it look like it could be. Legs and bikini line waxed, brand new outfit complete with heels that look like they could be high but actually aren't, and highlights in your winter-dulled hair. 

Last check in the mirror before you go, and you wish someone else could see you like this. 

The evening goes well. Really well. There's casual conversation, good food, laughter – Will, your 'date' has a wicked sense of humor that has you and Janet chortling over your gourmet dinners. The laughter and the couple of glasses of wine you've had make you feel warm and you imagine your face is flushed, but then so is everyone else's.

And when you get home, your face is still warm, his number is on your cell phone and yours on his and in the back of your mind, you can still hear his voice murmuring with that hint of bright humor and you can feel the way he'd brush your hand when he spoke to you. 

You catch a look at the clock on the mantelpiece and realize it's long past midnight and it's been years since you've been home long past midnight because of a date and not because of a world crisis.

Glancing at your answering machine, you see the little red light blinking and you press the button, not bothering to smother the yawn as you sink down onto a stool and kick off the deceptive heels that had pinched anyway. 

"You have.... three..... new messages."

Each message is blank, the caller ID hidden, which you think is pretty weird but you delete them quickly and then head off to bed, scrubbing off the make up and stripping down to nothing before sliding into bed. 

You did think of him, you always did, in that moment before you finally drifted off to sleep. 

*

"Ugh."

"You awake, Carter?"

"Uh huh." Though she really wished she wasn't. "Why... is the world upside down?" she asked.

"That would be because you're upside down. Wake up, Carter!" he shouted.

She shook her head, full and bursting with the blood that had rushed down her body while she'd been unconscious.

"Teal'c and I think you could probably get upright and unhook the cuffs. They've not tied your hands to the walls like us."

Where the hell was he anyway? Sam wondered, lifting her head and staring up her body. Grunting, straining, she tightened her abdominal muscles, her thigh muscles, and edged herself up, hands reaching for her legs. The strain was a screaming one and by the time she grasped hold of the material of her pants, she was sweating and panting. 

She shouldn't have skipped her morning run yesterday, she decided, her hands grabbing a hold of the chains that held her painfully manacled ankles to the wall on hooks. 

Stupid aliens, she thought, hadn't anyone ever unhooked themselves before? 

Swearing mentally, she unhooked one foot and yelped when her body swung around. Glancing down at the ground, she groaned, knowing that the moment she unhooked her other leg, she was going to fall hard onto that stone floor.

"You're doing great, Carter!"

Yeah. Sure. You betcha.

Using her free leg for leverage on the wall, and one hand wrapped around the rusty hook itself, she pushed up.

Just before her butt hit the ground, she remembered she was supposed to be on a date that night. And judging from the way her ankles were throbbing, she was going to have to forgo the green silk skirt for pants. 

*

So you go on date after date after date, fitting them in between missions and his international lectures. You're both equally busy so you never have to worry about leaving him behind and he seems to accept the censorship in your work life – you think he finds that attractive, that it gives you a little mystery.

Beyond that, you find you can talk to him about a lot of things. About your dad, your mom, your brother and his family. Bit by bit, you eke out bits of his own past – his failed marriage and his difficult relationship with his loner father. You learn about his sister in New York who'd quit school to join some band when she was seventeen and now she was married with three children and had taken up painting. 

Slowly, you introduce him to your friends. Daniel first, because you know Daniel, of all people, will be understanding. Daniel's a little surprised at how serious it's gotten but he doesn't say that to you directly, instead mentions it to Janet who lets it slip at a later date. 

To be honest, you're surprised too.

Soon, you're sleeping over at his apartment, him at your house. You have his key on your keychain and you give him yours. When you go on missions, he waters your plants for you and even talks to them – though he gets embarrassed when you ask him what you talk about.

You think that's sweet.

Next, you introduce him to Teal'c. Will's expression when he first meets Teal'c is a classic, one you'll remember for years. He swallows loudly and offers Teal'c his hand – "Wow," he says, looking a little awed, "you work in deep space radar telemetry too?"

And Teal'c nods, murmurs 'Indeed' and looks at you as if to say 'Does O'Neill know?'

But you are safe. Because the Colonel does know. You were honest and upfront about each and every date – ironic considering how honest and upfront you aren't about the things between you both. 

So the dating goes on. 

*

"Ow!"

Sam looked at her CO in surprise, holding the tweezers above his finger. "Ow?" she repeated.

The Colonel clears his throat. "Er... just get on with it, Carter, won't you?" he demanded, brusquely.

Swiping his thumb with the antiseptic again, her hip leaning against the metal table in one of the temporary off-world labs, she poises the edges of the tweezers over his thumb, her sharp eyes searching out the little black mark where the splinter was. "It might be better to let it wiggle its way out," she said thoughtfully.

"Just get it out already, Carter!"

"If I ever needed proof that you were a guy, this would be it," she informed his thumb, before going in for the kill.

"Ow!"

She couldn't wait to tell Janet.

*

Eight months of dating and it's turned into the second longest relationship you've ever had. And you weren't even the one to bring it up – Janet was, bemoaning the fact that she and Will's best friend had gone their separate ways two months after that double date and yet you and Will were still together.

To-geth-er.

When you return home now, you expect him to be there. You pick him up from the airport, you go out for celebratory dinners and drag him – kicking and screaming – shopping where he reveals for the first time his fear of malls. You go grocery shopping. You find yourself doing stupid things – kissing in aisle fourteen and buying exotic fruit just because he likes the sound of the name. You think it's ludicrously funny the way he juggles the apples and all the little kids crowd around him with their mouths open.

You like the way other women look at him. Admiringly. That gives you a secret thrill because you think to yourself, He's mine. 

Your first fight is over something ridiculous and for weeks afterwards you wonder what the hell possessed you. All you know is you spend half an hour afterwards feeling miserable and just as you reach for the phone to call him, the phone rings and it's him, sitting outside with his cell phone to his ear saying he doesn't care who the hell wrote 'The Great Gatsby' and could you let him in because it's started to rain.

You let him in.

The next thing you know, you're talking about moving in together. Casually, over Chinese, watching as he frowns and concentrates on keeping the chopsticks together. You make fun of his competence, pointing out that he's the international surgeon in the room and she's merely a theoretical astrophysicist, and he laughs and drops a cashew nut on the floor and goes to get a fork.

The next week, the conversation comes up again. Moving in together. He's trying to look neutral, you're trying to look neutral. You ask him which end he squeezes the toothpaste from and he blinks.

The end, of course, is his answer.

You smile.

*

"Daniel, could you *stop*?"

Daniel snorted. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Moments later, he started humming once again and the Colonel sighed deeply before turning to Sam who was trying to sleep next to him. 

"Carter, remind me, never let Daniel drink again."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied, yawning and trying to find an unlumpy place to put her head. 

"No, really. Never. Again."

"You say that every time," she said pointedly.

"That's because you never remind me."

"I do! I did, right before you went off to flirt with that redhead." Sam lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at her CO. He probably couldn't see – it was pretty dark in the tent – but she knew he was embarrassed purely from the way the silence was stretching.

"Auburn, Carter. *Auburn*."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I'll make a note of that in my report, shall I?" she giggled.

"You're giggling, Carter."

"Sorry, sir."

Daniel suddenly broke into song, "_There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernandooooo!_"

"Daniel would you *shut* *up*?" they yelled.

*

You're both slumped on a bench when it happens. He's panting hard, you're grinning stupidly, slapping away his hand that keeps trying to pinch your side through the T-shirt you wear when you jog. 

For the past mile you've been seriously considering biting his ass, but you don't tell him that. You'll let him find out later.

He grins at you, makes some crack about her being disgustingly healthy and it wasn't really fair because he wasn't wearing the right sneakers for this kind of a workout and, plus, the weather is too.... hot... yeah.... and he's not been feeling too great these last couple of days, and after all he only got back four days ago so he's probably still got jet lag.

He's laughing because you're laughing, slumped over on the bench, ribs aching as he pulls as many excuses out of his ass as he can to explain his exhaustion after their two mile jog.

"Carter."

Abruptly, all the air leaves your lungs, and suddenly all the tension that you'd worked off from the run re-manifests in your spine.

Slowly, you sit up. Will's looking a little bemused.

"Colonel," you say.

"It's Saturday, Carter. You can call me Jack."

Staring up at him, his eyes inscrutable behind dark sunglasses, you momentarily forget who you are as your eyes rove up from the jeans to the black shirt, jeans, black shirt, jeans, black shirt.

"Um, I'm Will," Will says, finally, filling the awkward silence and holding out his hand.

"O'Neill, Carter's boss." 

Jack and Will shake hands uncomfortably.

"Heard a lot about you," the Colonel says casually.

Will glances over at you. "Heard... absolutely nothing about you," he says honestly, with that grin that nearly always makes you squirm.

"Yeah." The Colonel shrugs. "I was being polite." Reaching up, he pulls his glasses off and for a moment, Sam has this really weird sense of déjà vu.

Sensing you ought to be saying something, you turn to Will, your mouth parting in preparation.

Then you stared at Will for a long moment, as he blinked brown, warm and slightly confused eyes at you. Smiled that smile. The grey patches at his temples in his otherwise light brown hair.

And you think...

*Damn*


End file.
